Replaying Past
by Freckle359
Summary: What happened after the opera burned down? What became of Erik? The Phantom... Swelling in his own guilt and shame, Erik drinks away the pain of losing the women he loved, only to come across another poor soul, who like him, is running from her own circus
1. Replaying Past

[Disclaimer: I do not own or make any sort of money off of this based story. I only own the charaters of Esme Lonsdale, Eddy and his sister Crystal, The wig maker, Nicolas and the three boys from Sandor's gang. Everything else I do not own nor belong to me. ]

Lost...All is Lost.

Erik sat upon the wet stone step, which lingered by his rippling lake. It's been three-months now, since the nightmare had been taken from the darkness section of his mind and placed before his very eyes. Christine, his only one. He believe she would take him in. Who would sing the songs he wrote to fill the emptiness within his heart with the warmth and love in which his own mother would not provide. She had left him and within the mist of his jealousy and anger, he had killed, he had frighten and he had chased his beloved Singer... Into the arms of Vicomte de Chagny...

Raoul....

That name, That name echoed in Eriks ears and he gave out a shout. Full of pain, filled with betrayal. That echoed off the stone walls. His voice fell silent.... Letting the only thing greeting him, the drips and drops of water, that seeped throu from the outside world. The world he so deeply wanted to reach with his own two hands, to teach with his songs... Only to be shunned by it by the way he looks, and outcast by the way he is. He knows no self-esteem, nor no human kindness, which this world had given. With a deep sigh Erik stood himself back up to his feet. His black trousers, hugging his muscular legs, a shash tied tightly about his hip, letting its trail brush along his left upper thigh. His white parted shirt with long sleeve cuffs, Shoved smoothly into his waistband, breathlessly caressing the tan flesh of Erik's chest, hiding the power and beauty his own body held.

But his face did not.

Smoothing back his black hair, fixing the damnable white mask, he made his way out throu one of his mirrors. He needed to empty his thoughts from his mind; he wanted the nightmare that pleaded him to end.

~~~~~~~~~{ Within the Streets of France }~~~~~~~~~~~

The Streets before the Old Theater home, where the stories of 'The Phantom' was born and grew, lay quiet and still. After the mishap of the Chandelier, people seem to stop coming and the actors went away. But still, there it stands, in the mitts of glory that it once held, but lost within the nightmare of the truth. No one would dare go near it again.

But the upper class needed a place to go. To spend their money and rid themselves of boredness, that the Opera use to provide.

One night, a few days ago, a fair opened. Like many others in the past, it was a freak show. Storm clouds began to gather over head, showing signs of rain and thunder but still the fair went on. Children laughs and screamed at the sites of the 'Breaded Lady' or 'The living Mirmaid.' The Lower and Upper class mixed as they watched in amusement, of wondrous humankind.

The Snake Boy.

The Fused Twins.

The 'little' lady.

But the very last, was the one every Gentlemen and poor beggar wanted to see.

The Gypsy dancers.

A group of dancing girls, within clothing that did nothing to hide then it did to expose. With colorful straps of clothing, stunning jewels and laughing eyes. As their hips swayed, their legs kicked and their bellies dance. The men of this group would snapped their whips, making the girls dance more, to laugh out, drawing more attention from the costumes. And more coins. But like one night, like long ago.

Another escape.

The taps of raindrops began to fall from the cloud covered sky, as a figure moved quickly within the shadows, rushing threw the ally's upon the streets. The sounds of panting breath echoed, as patting of rushing feet could be hinted. Bells chimed in soft tune within the shadows of whom pressed closely to the corner of a brick wall. Eyes glancing out into the empty road. Showing no signs of life, but only the flickering light of flamed lap posts upon every edge.

Stepping into the light, as the rain fell. Esme stepped into the dim glow. With worried bright green eyes, that seems to scan from side to side with every passing second. Her hair, bright of golden red fire, piled on top of her head, with curls bouncing down along the back of her neck and shoulders, covered with pins of jewels and ruby's. A cloak, of black wool covered damp upon her shoulders, her face showing the skin of dark tan, showing how much she was within the burning sun. She moved across the rocky road, the cloak flapping open. Within, her outfit shimmered.

Her top of dim sliver color vest was small enough to hug only her swollen breasts and a small part of her back, barring her shoulders and upper skin of her breasts and cleavage, along with her flat stomach, showing small shapes of Abams. A jewel was nuzzled between her breasts, keeping her top together. But upon her arms, dark violent sleeve lingered; see threw, held on by sliver armbands that locked onto her upper arms. The cloth trailed down in lengths to her wrists, baring her palms and fingers. A skirt, also the same shade as the vest was short as well and hugged her small waist, big enough to cover the cloth she made, to cover the valley between her thighs, but short enough to bare her long slender legs to her slipper covered feet. A belt with sliver thorns looping around each other; latched tightly upon her hips. She had to take a shirt she found within a chest back in the sand hills, where she once lived. A chest her sisters had past down to her in which she ripped to strands, placing other shades of see threw purple upon the belt, letting them ripple down along her hips and thighs, down to her knees, giving her more of an enchanting look.

She was one of those Gypsy dancers, or was one for a few months now. But she was only protected by the harsh treatments of the others within the traveling band by her farther. He was the swordsman. His talent was throwing them about, swallowing them, fighting with them, and he was very good at what he did. And he abused his talnet but swearing to cut any mans member right off, if they dare touched his youngest daughter. Even the head master of the whole freak show did her fathers bidding...For now.

Mournful tears trailed down those cheeks of the innocent Gypsy. Her Father had died two nights ago, during one of his performances'. 'Clearly an accident' the headman did say to her, as she cried by her fathers' bed, where he laid still and cold as ice. She knew that with all the love of her father, they had killed him. Some how, they had missed with his act and he was killed by it. She would have stayed and tried to find out why, but last night, while her and the other girls went to rest and eat. Esme ran across the headman's chat with the guards, who were placed to whip at the Gypsy's to give the show a more thrilling scene. They spoke of her father's death and they spoke of her.

She panted, the cold wet air filling her lungs as she dashed. They had planned to take her tonight. To destroy the innocence she held so deeply. Rape her, beat her, and use her in the ways they wanted to for the past months. They wanted to make her scream, to cry out for her father, to beg them to stop. But they won't have a chance. Packing her clothes and the jewels that belonged to her mother and one of her fathers swords. She ran. That's all she could do. Run. But she stilled when she heard rushing feet not far behind, and the curses and shouts within the ally's walls.

'She must have gone this way!'

'How could you let her escape!'

'Shut up the both of you! Find her and bring her back!"

Grabbing her cloak tightly she ran on. But she heard one of the voices's boom, like the sound of thunder rolling over her head. 'There! I hear it! The damn belt! She's over here!" Esme whimpered out, the belt she wore held sliver little bells, that chimed with every movement she made. And so she ran faster, her lungs beginning to burn. She must hide. She must hide!

Turning one of the corners of the streets, she pressed her back against the damp wall. Where was she to go? She had never been in these kinds of towns before and she feared she would run into those monsters if she took a wrong turn. Tears fell faster and as she slide down the wall. She was doomed. She was giving up to easily, yes, but she was doomed when they find her! She sobbed quietly to herself, wishing her father were still alive to protect her like he said he would. But her sobbing did sub-sided, when she heard pounding steps of rushing feet come close. Fear grabbed her. She whimpered out and let out a fearful cry. She didn't want to be caught, she didn't want to be raped and beaten. She got upon her knees and her hands flew to the wall to help herself stand to her trembling legs. But her fingers touched a window, and the window suddenly jerked open, causing the scared lass to fall threw.

Pain struck her; soreness ripped her arms and shoulders. She had fallen threw an old window and hit the rock floor below. The blow didn't kill her; the drop wasn't very far. But it did scrape her knuckles, arms and knees. And bruise her cheek from the bag she held so tightly. She couldn't move for some times. But she was glad she didn't. For the voices the men soon came and went, rushing passed the open window by a long shot. She waited in till the footsteps were gone and the pain she felt subsideded. With trembling hands and legs, she pushed herself up. Turning around slowly, pushing the window closed, as gentle and quietly as she could. In case they came back around.

She didn't know how long she had sat. But the pain within her skin started to grow into a dull ache. With a twitch and a silent hiss, she pushed herself to stand to her trembling feet. Holding her bag tightly in her left arm and let her right gluiding along the wall, helping her form to stay up. Taking one step at a time, slow and steady she started to make her way down the tunnels. Forgetting that her father's sword, that laid embrace in the shadows, under the closed window.

The tunnel was deep and she gazed at its stone wall. Where was she...? Where would she end up? Cobwebs lingered at the ceilings while dust rolled along the floor. It was like; no one has entered this place for years. But she walked on, questions in her mind. It wasn't long before she found another window, in which it too was unlocked. Pushing it open, she saw it lead to a little room. Like a church. But mostly for praying. Two stands lingered before a fireplace, with already burned old candles resting upon it, with pictures of peoples faces under. A prayer for the dead. She twitched and slowly eased herself down upon a stone bench, her sore skinned knees making it harder to reach the ground.

Slowly she stepped within the middle of the small little room, turning her head from side to side. Her red curls, that was so neatly tucked and nestled upon her head, fallen and brushing along her small back to her rump. Where was she? She stared about before her eyes caught a set of circling stairs and another hall of tunnels. She frowned... But she was safe. And so, she quickly went into the tunnels, hiding herself deeper in the strange place she had fallen into.

How long had she been wondering... She didn't know. She was lost. Taking one path after another, she feared she would never find a way out and she just lead herself into a maze in which she most surly will die. After a few days of walking, and starving and what not.... A shiver shot down her spine. But she walked on. Hoping still, she could find a way out.

Time seem to pass so slowly for her. One Hour...Maybe two past since and her legs began to throb from her walking. But Right when she was about to call it quits and sit down and wait to die, she heard little sounds, .....water?

*Drip*

*Drip*

She frowned at the sounds. Was it raining outside still...Or was it something more? Pushing herself along the wall, helping her throbbing muscles go on; she listened and followed.

*Drip*

*Drip*

The simple sound started to turn into many. Ripples of water, tons of little drops seeping threw the stone ceiling, dropping from the ceiling to the ground. Her feet carried her down a pair of stone steps, that lead to where the sounds echoed from. And what she saw made her eyes widen in pure shock. Her lips part in awe. A Lake. A underground lake. This most truly is amazing! The lake seemed to stretch out wide, in till her eyes caught a soft dim light. Her eyes narrowed a little, trying to bring into focus of what it was. The light flickered in the distance, showing that someone was setting off a group of candles. She smiled a little. Perhaps there's was someone who could help her!

Staring down into the dark water, she frowned at it. How deep was it? She was very sure... She wasn't a very good swimmer. But there's no better time to learn then now. Stepping to the last stone step, she stared down at the water below. Her heart raced. Was it really deep? She prayed it wasn't. Settling herself upon the very edge, her slipper-covered feet slightly touching the water surface, her right hand tightly gripped the stone edge tightly. If it was truly deep, she could hang on, and just push herself from one pillar to another, since there seemed to be sets in a line towards the light. With one more pray and a deep breath, she pushed herself off.

And struck the shallow waters below. Her eyes did open when she felt the sudden stop, her hand upon the edge, catching her upper body before it too, was embrace within the cold liquid. Indeed cold! She shivered from it but it was better then going back. The water lingered waist deep on her. How lucky for her indeed. With a sigh of 'thanks', she pushed herself threw the water, holding her bag tightly in her arms, heading towards the glittering light.

This was the up most strangest thing she ever laid her eyes on. Upon making it to the light, she was stopped by a grand gate that seemed to hang right out from the rock ceiling above her head. She frowned at it. But it was up enough, for her to squeeze under, her bundle would get wet, but it was something she would risk. Taking a breath, she ducked into the water, her fingers pinching her nose close to keep her air inside. Quickly she pushed her feet on the ground to the other side, forcing her head back up threw the waters surface, taking a deep breath again. Shaking her head, her wet curls hanging loosely along her back, even floating a little within the water. She entered the candle lit room and stopped in shock.

Some one indeed was living here.

It was a small place, but it was used for its great measures. On the left side, a wall of drawings seem to hang, from where she was, it looked like drawings of girls. But also, a burnt up little theater rested before those drawings, which made her puzzle on the question, 'why did that get burnt?' But her eyes shifted to the right in which she found a very large organ. Slowly her body moved threw the water, in till she reached the solid ground of land. Placing her bang down at her feet, she made her way towards the organ. She never seen anything like these up close before... She smiled a little. How on earth did they ever get one down here? Her fingers traced the keyboards, picking up a wide collection of dust that seemed to gather upon it...She frowned... No one had played this instrument for weeks on end. Music sheet lay torn and ripped. Ink pens broken and Ink bottles shattered upon the ground, leaving its black blood, stained upon the surface. She suddenly got sad feeling about this place.

Turning her body, she found the one thing, her mind seem to snap suddenly and her body beg. A swan shape bed lingered overhead, up among the steps. Black lace drapes hanging around it... Her feet took one step after another towards it, taking one stone step after another. Red covers and satin sheets covered the mattress and the pillows piled on top of one and another. It seemed to inviting. Kneeling down, wincing from her skinned knees, she lifted the black lace drapes, letting herself move under it, letting it go to settle back on the ground. Her mind began to shut down and her body began to do the same thing as well. It was late. It had to be. But she begged her mind. The candles are still lit. The place might seem like no one had been here for years, but the candles are proof enough and she wouldn't like it if she came home and found some strange in your nicely made bed....

But she was so tired.... And the bed looked to tempting... And she 'did' have a rough night...

Slowly her hand pulled back the covers and let herself slip between its satin sheets, her head softly resting upon one of the pillows, her wet hair slowly drying, curling around her form. She would risk the anger of the strangers' home... or even death. She just wanted this night to be over... She just wanted to sleep.


	2. Horrid Waking

Chapter two

Disclaimer: I do not own or make any sort of money off of this based story. I only own the charaters of Esme Lonsdale, Eddy and his sister Crystal, The wig maker, Nicolas and the three boys from Sandor's gang. Everything else I do not own nor belong to me. ]

'Ha...Music of the night... What a crack that was."

Eriks heavy steps padded against the rock floor, his right hand held up on the moist stone wall to keep his balance as his body swayed side to side, his eyes blurred from the amount of wine he had drowned himself in.

"Only you, my angle. Could make my song take flight... All bow, to the fool of wishful thinking." He slurred out, his left hand holding up a wine bottle, covered with days of dust and a peeling label. "Bow. To his stupid dreams, or having a simple women. In his bed." He came to a slow stop; his knees buckling under his weight, crashing to his knees, then to his backside, settling upon the ground. His shoulder pressed into the wall beside him, his fingers clinging into the bottle, as if it were the only thing he had left. Which, in his eyes; was. "No women, not even the whores on the streets will touch me." He growled, his dimming vision staring emptily into the bottles smooth glass. Giving him a small glimpse of himself. Of his mask he wore, that covered the truth of why his singer ran away.

"Damn you!" He cried, with all the anger and pain that swelled within, that infected his very mind and being like a sickness, that no matter how long he waited or what he did, will never cease. "Beast!" With all his force, he threw the bottle from his site, from his very hand. Wishing no more to stare upon his face, that will never hold true beauty. The easing sounds of shattered glass met his ears and he could do nothing more but lean on the wall, and gather himself once again. His singer was most likely right now, in the arms of her lover. Tangles in a bed of silk sheets and petals of roses. With her warm skin pressed so nicely into her lovers' form, together entwine. The thought turned his stomach. And gorge filled his throat. But swallowing the bitter taste down, his fingers dug into the rocky wall, shoving him self back to his feet.

Erik had spent his night, like he had done every week. Leaving his tomb of bitterness and pain, he seeped out a wine cellar in which he drank deeply from, wanting to drink out the memories of his past. Even forget. But they always seem to sneak back and every time. Far worse then the last. Of course, in the back of his mind, he should just surround to the fact. That he would never get her back. Nor will any women touch him. He was, after all.

The Devils Child.

A title that was burned into his mind and was never healed.

But the day would soon approach. And his legs and body begged to be let down to sleep. "Back to my cold bed." He grumbled; his hands helping him walk towards his hidden passage. "Back, to my sad state of mind."

Trembling hands removed the red velvet drapes, that covered his full-length mirror, letting his body step threw. His eyes burned from the light of the candles, making him grunt out and cover them with his arm. The light shot a numbing throb within his temples, telling him. The beginning of a headache was coming. But sleep will knock it over and he will wake up, with a new day to sulk and sit. And wish for the life that would never be his. His ears listened to the water drops of his home, the noise calming him slightly, but not enough.

Climbing the set of stairs, that led him towards his bed. He started to remove his clothing. Pulling his shirt out from within his trousers embrace, yanking it over his head and tossed carelessly to the side. Like old habits, his right hand reached out, grabbing the dangling rope that pulled the black drapes up from the bed. His eyes, to blurry and narrowed, didn't notice the lump already tucked in the covers. Reason being, he sat himself upon the edge, kicking away his shoes and socks. His misted mind, which sways with the laziness of cheep French wine. Didn't give him the care or the strength to remove his trousers.

And so with a deep breath, and a long sigh, he removed his mask from his face, letting his horrid, scarred, infected skin get a breath of cool damp air. Tossing the mask carelessly to the floor, he fell backwards. His body falling heavily upon the soft mattress and his head, land on something frim, yet.... Bonny...

A squeal ripped from under the covers, causing Esme reaction to sit up blindly, the covers to fling off from her torso. Erik let out a cry as well, as his body jerking up at the same time as the stranger within his bed.

.... A stranger...

Silence stuck its tune. Esme sat within the middle of the swan bed. Her hand pressed against her breast, where her heart raced wildly. Her mess of Red curls fallen before her eyes, covering her sight of who or what stuck her. Erik sat there shocked yet amused. Someone... A lass... Most defalently a lass. Sat within his bed. From being drunk, he sobered up pretty quickly. When he watched her hands rise up to remove her hair from her eyes. She was going to look at him, and see his horrid face. With a curse, he shoved himself from the bed top, picking up his tossed mask from the ground. As her eyes looked towards Erik's back. His mask was slipped back into place. But his temper slipped bitterly into his voice as he spoke.

"Who are you and why are you in my home?!"

Erik could feel warmth on his back, was she staring at him with fear? Did she see his face? Good, let her fear. How dare she brake into his home and sleep in his bed. His body turned to charge at the young lass for being so naive to brake into the 'Phantoms' home. When he suddenly came to a complete stop. She was sitting in the middle of his bed. Her eyes widen in shock, and her face flush... Not of fear but of.... No.

Esme stared into the blue eyes of the man that had stuck her within the mists of her sleep. She new the risks of laying within a bed that was not hers. But she never thought, never imaged someone. Like 'him' waking her. But to hear his bitter voice made her body jerk and the site of him...Without a shirt, within black tight trousers, that shaped his strong legs and hips, made her more flush and nervous, besides fear. They stared, she didn't know for how long. But her mind finally snapped back into place. And her thoughts were shattered with a true fact.

"Oh!" Quickly she turned and crawled to the opposed side of his bed, putting distance between them both. She had a feeling, if she was closer to him, he would snap her neck like a twig. "I'm so sorry!" She began. Shoving herself to her trembling feet, turning back to face him fully. "I thought someone lived here, since the candles were lit and all, but I didn't think you'll be back so soon. Well, I don't really know what time you would be back, I hardly know you so its wrong for me to judge and say you'll be back whenever I think and so forth. But you see, I was being chased and I just need a place to hide. I know this isn't a good intro-"

"Quiet!" He barked.

Esmes' mouth snapped shut as her body jerked, her back pressed into the damp wall. All the thoughts of the handsome man before her washed away, with the fear and terror that he 'would' kill her. He stayed where he was, for now. Only his narrowed cold eyes and his bitter voice speaking out. "Where did you come from?" Guiding by her outfit, she wasn't from around her. So he waited, but he could not help but over look her figure. She was a very pretty young lady. She held the color of fire upon her head and a warming aura within her eyes. And her skin, far darker then of the ladies he had seen before on the stage. But it suited her, made her look more... stunning. Her lips, that looked soft and tender, parted and closed, every now and then as she tried to speak. She was trying his time, even though he didn't mind. " I will not ask again."

"The Freak show."

Erik's eyes narrowed, "Pardon me?" He growled, he voice covering once again by anger. Was she calling him a freak? So she had seen his face. "You little..." With a shove, he pushed himself onto his bed and across, his arms reaching out for her, "I'll teach you to call me a freak!"

Her eyes widen in fear as he lunged at her, making a scream rip threw her throat. Her body ducked when he reached, letting his hand met the rocky wall and her frame brush past him, crawling back over the bed to the other side, trying to keep their distance. But he only stalked her, making her whimper out. "No! You're misunderstanding! I'm from the Freak Show. Me!" But he only raced after her. Her feet pressing into the ground as she ran down those short flights of stairs. But where was she to go? She was stuck on a sandbar! But in the mitts of her thoughts, a large hand grabbed her right arm tightly when she reached the last step, yanking her back into the man that chased her. He held her arms tightly, she feared he would brake her bones if he gripped any tighter. Tears formed within her tightly closed eyes as she wiggled and struggled to free herself from his grip. Her legs kicking widely in till she shuck his right knee, making him swear an oath before shoving her to the ground.

"You don't look like the type who would belong in such a place." He growled, before falling to his knees, even if his right one throbbed from the strike. He grabbed at Esmes' hips, when she started to push herself back up to run. Yanking her back to the stone ground, making her cry out. Erik showed no mercy, straddling her waist, he pinned her arms to her side, snarling from her rapidly kicking legs as she cried and screamed. " Please! Let me go! I didn't do anything! I just slept, that's all!"

"You're a gypsy aren't you. One of those whores that dance." He felt her body thrust up, moving wildly under his own, her head shaking from side to side, sobbing like her very life was being ripped from her. At least not yet. Yanking her upper body up, letting her face be held close to his own, he whispered; "I don't care who you are, I don't care where you come from or why your here. I want you out of my home and out of my sight, now leave!" He shoved her back to the ground, making her back strike the rock floor, knocking the breath she held out. Removing himself from the young women's tender figure, he stepped away, watching her curl up and roll to her side, coughing, little hiccups passing her trembling lips.

She had this coming. She repeated to herself. She knew the risk, but she was so tired. Catching her breath and the facts of the ordeal. She slowly started to push her body up. Leaning upon her elbows, taking a few deep breaths, to get her back under control. She was accepted no where... Fresh tears fell as she pushed herself up to her knees. She didn't want to go back. They would find her and surly kill her. She didn't want to go back. Fully standing, she looked back to the man who seemed to be lost within his own world of anger and bitter hate. It was no use... She got out lucky. He could have killed her besides bruise her. "I'm sorry." She whispered, before she limped her way towards her bundle that was still settled at the shore edge. Her right knee, already skinned from her fall at the window, was throbbing from the impact of the fall. Her knee striking the rock ground. She could still move her toes which told her, her knee was not shattered or popped out of place, but that she wasn't going to be running anytime soon.

Erik watched his trespasser leave. He should kill her. It was his right. She broke in into his home, slept in his bed... and ran away... The more he thought and the more he watched... The guiltier he felt. She truly didn't do anything wrong.... He frowned to himself... Was this the anger that made his Singer run away...Was this the one thing, that was going to keep him alone? The sound of rippling water whispered into his ears. Looking to, he saw the young Gypsy stepping into the water, going towards the gate. This is what he wanted... He wanted to be alone.

...

"Wait."


	3. Same nightmare, yet not

[Disclaimer: I do not own or make any sort of money off of this based story. I only own the charaters of Esme Lonsdale, Eddy and his sister Crystal, The wig maker, Nicolas and the three boys from Sandor's gang. Everything else I do not own nor belong to me. ]

~~~~~~~{

"Wait."

Esme came to a stop, cold water brushing along her feet and knees. Keeping her back to the man whom so suddenly attacked her, when she tried to explain. She gripped tightly onto her bag a little more. Not trusting, not daring to look back into his cold eyes, not wanting to step back into his harmful grasp once again. And so, she moved forward, pushing against the water.

"No. Please I didn't mean to hurt you."

Erik didn't understand why he was saying such things. But; he had been alone for three months. And she truly didn't do anything wrong. "Come out of the water. It must be cold." He must have scared the poor girl, for she kept moving forward to the gate, letting the water seep up to her waist. Why must his anger always take control? Letting out a deep sigh, he threw his hands up a little. "Fine. But I do hope, you know your way around this theater." He called out, a little smirk pulling at his lips. "One can get lost for days, if not guided right." His smirk widen a little more when the girls body came to a stop. Her right hand touching the rusted gate. He had her there. It took her hours to find this one single place. How long would it take her to find her way back? Perhaps, she should just stay.

"I believe milord. I'll take my chance out there then in here."

Erik winced, stubborn girl. He didn't think he would get a reply like that. He didn't know what else to offer. He had scared her and she was walking away. Wait, this is good. Then he can be alone. Just him and…

He's sorrow…

He didn't want to be alone any more. His close friend, Madame Giry left soon after his nightmare began with Meg and never came to visit. Nor could he go seek her. Everyone would know whom he was, sine they still believed he lived. He must let the talks die down, before he set foot out of the theater walls and into the streets above. A deep gasp snapped his thoughts when he saw Esme plug her nose and without a single thought in his mind. He cried out.

"Are you hungry?"

She paused suddenly. Her hands still clinging to her nose and covering her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out from the air she held. But She looked to him. Her face showing the expression of disbelief, did he just say what she believed he said? Erik let out a deep breath, he didn't know he held. He waved his hand, becking her to return. "You must be. A bonny Madame like you must be half starved. If… You come back. I'll give you something to eat." Esme still didn't move, her little form starting to tremble from the cold water. Erik gave a little frown before he muttered, "I'll keep a good distance from you." Esme would have declined his offer. He just wanted to go back so he could torment her and beat her and worse! But her ears heard the sound's of her protesting stomach, begging for a wee morsel to fill it. This masked man wasn't playing fair.

"I do not know."

Erik's' lips gave a small smile, before he slowly turned his back to her. "By all means. You may leave if you wish. It is a shame thou. The food I hold, far too much for myself to consume. It would be a delight if I had someone to share the frozen pig's meat I have shushed away, plum pudding and buttered bread, still warm and soft from the oven."

"You don't play fair."

He's eyebrows rose in confusion. Her voice seemed far closer. Turning on his heels, he suddenly jerked back. While he rambled on, Esme had crossed back to solid land. Dripping wet and shivering. Her eyes narrowed, but hunger lurked within those pools of green. He just stood there. Staring at her in mere shock. She seemed so small and so fragile. "Madame…" He whispered, lifting up his hand, leading her back to his bedroom. "I do anything. But play."

Wrapped within one of his Cloaks, Esme was sat upon the edge of the swan like bed, her fingers holding onto a wineglass, that held red liquid inside its glossy entrance. Her masked hosted, had left to fetch the food in which he spoke. She had to keep on her guard. He might come back and try to beat her. If so, she would simple remove her belt and hit him with it. The thorns could scratch him and while he cried and cursed about the pain, she could run. She nodded to her idea before she heard footsteps again. He held, what seemed to be an old messaged tray. She had forgotten what they were called. But placing it beside her, he did his best, not to touch, not even the wet fabric of her cloak or his own cloak that he had loan her to warm up in. In thought if he did, she would run. But she couldn't blame him fully for his reaction. She most likely would have done the same thing.

Picking apart the bread, she slowly fed herself. Saving the taste of warm food that didn't come in a soup liquid form. But ever now and then, she glanced up from under her lashes to see her masked host. Settled within a chair, a few feet before her. A wineglass clenched within his hand, his gaze watching her. Was he planning something? She should throw something in his face. It is in-polite to stare at someone while they eat. So rude! Shoving a bigger chuck of the bread into her mouth, she fed upon the cold meat and pie before she heard his voice. A whisper, dark and deep, echoes to her ears.

"So Madame. What brings you, to my humble home of darkness?" Gulping down what was in her mouth, she took a small sip of the wine, shivering from the strong attack it had on her tongue. But she shoved the taste aside, speaking out her answer. "I was being chased."

"By who?" Rising his glass, he took a slow swallow of his wine, watching her frame over his glass. She seemed so much like a mouse. So shy, so quiet. She would bite him if given the chance. Stubbornness, Yet, in the back of his mind, an image of another young women played within his mind. "By three men. Two guards from my band and the Head Master that runs the carnival." Erik's browse forward in a glare. His knuckles flexed, his grip tightening a little more on his glass. "Go on…" She cast her eyes a side, her fingers playing a little with the cold meat upon her plate, before lowering her hands back to her sides. "I ran away from the carnival for I over heard them talking. They wanted to do things to me, horrid things. And since my father is gone, no one would protect me. So, I packed all the things I had and ran. But they found out and chased me." She rose her right hand, grabbing a red curl a little, her small form beginning to shiver. "I could hear their shouting and their feet. They seemed so close. I could hear them yelling. Cursing, promising to do such evil things to me once they gotten me. I had to run, but I didn't know where to go. There was this window that was unlocked. I fell threw it you see and I must of blacked out. For when I woke up, I was in a strange room then I wondered deeper and somehow ended up here."

Erik's ears had shut out her words. So… She too was like him. Being chased down like an animal. It was long ago yes, but he too. Could hear the shouts of the angry mob of his childhood. His first murder. But there was a difference between his past and her own… Madame Giry helped him, she on the other hand. Only had herself. He should find these men that were chasing the young miss and kill them with his bare hands! Those crannies were all the same. Never showing true respect to women and children. Always thinking of lust and greed and how to fill that need. It sickened him to his very soul. Long since finished with his wine. He placed the empty glass down at his feet. "So, you have no where to go, yes?" Her white teeth bit upon her bottom lip, as her head gave a little nod. Erik thought, leaning his elbows upon his knees. His chin resting upon his fingers. Esme titled her head. Was he going to let her stay for the night? She smiled a little to herself in hope. She truly didn't want to go back out there. Those men might still be looking for her. And by the way she was, dead tired and wet. She wouldn't make it very far. But her thoughts were cut when Erik pushed himself to stand, "Come. I have a place in which, you may stay." Esme's eyes widen a little from the shock. But she pushed herself to stand and followed him anyhow in a limp. Would he trick her? At her state of mind, she hoped he wouldn't.

~~~~~~~~~{

"You may use this room."

Erik swung the wooden door open, its metal hangers giving a loud groan from the pressure. Ruby followed inside. It was a large room indeed. Placed with more then 20 beds. It was like; a room made for an orphanage. "This is the old Ballad room." He spoke, as if he were reading her very thoughts. "All the dancers slept here. But they all have moved out, so I don't think they would mind if you stay." Esmes eyes did narrow. The room was dark and the only light she had was the full moons and the little flame Erik held upon his candlestick. "There's a chest filled with old nightwear. You may use that." He watched as his red hair miss walked towards the dust-covered chest, which settle at the edge of one of the many beds. Placing the candleholder down upon the closest nightstand. He spoke again. "Do no leave this room. I shall come and fetch you in the morning." Esme stared at him, questions lurking in her eyes. Why did he want her to stay in this room? Oh god. Was he going to lock her in? But He only took the handle of the door and whispered softly. "I don't need you getting lost and braking something. Good night." Turning his back to her, he made his way out, closing the door from behind.

"Wait!"

He jerked to a sudden stop. Glancing slowly over his shoulder. She had rushed to the door, holding it open a little with her right hand, peering at him threw the small gap between the door and its door frame. "Yes? Is there something you need?" She stared up at him, with her warm green eyes. Making him feel something strange deep within his cold chest. But what got him more, was when he heard her words and saw the gentle smile upon her lips. "You never told me your name." His face did not give away his shock. No one ever asked for his name... Not even his own singer. She just called him 'Angle Of Music' and he played along… Should he say the same thing to her as well?

"Perhaps I should go first? Yes? I am Esme."

Erik stared at her gentle face for a moment loner, before he replied. "For the time being. You may call me 'Phantom.' Good night." Esme only gave a little chuckle. "How mysterious. But thank you, by and by. For letting me stay…" Giving a nod, he closed the door fully, making sure her hand had slipped away before doing so. Letting the knob go, stepping back from its embrace. He stood watching. Waiting. But for what? He didn't know. Did he want the door to open and for her to come out to seek him? Or perhaps to make sure that she wouldn't run away. Why would he care? Truly, why would he? This made no sense to him. Damnable women. She was messing with his thoughts and making him lose the grip of reality. Damn her. But a sudden rush of relief swam threw him. When he heard soft little pats slip threw the doorway. Like someone was brushing off one's bed covers, the cracking of the wooden bed as a body slipped upon it and the sudden darkness threw the cracks of the door. As the only yellow light was blown away. He let himself smile then before turning to seek his own bed.

"What have I gone and done now."


End file.
